Monday, September 5, 2016

song of the displaced

things should not have occurred otherwise than as they are

I want to soak up
the poetry of the world
that ekes and oozes
out of every corner
of the grass and
shimmers on the undersides
of oak leaves
I want to satiate
my spongy soul
on reality which flickers
in the wings of doves
riding a gust of wind
or does that lope through
speckled shadows
and then squeeze her out,
until the last drop
hits the page
and I am at a loss.

This is not Chinatown— and I am not drinking whiskey— this is a leftover white wine in Harlem sort of night. I call my mother, crying,...

About me

"I never want to lose the story-loving child within me, or the adolescent, or the young woman, or the middle-aged one, because all together they help me to be fully alive on this journey, and show me that I must be willing to go where it takes me, even through the valley of the shadow."--Madeleine L'Engle